


Bliss From Below

by Selkie_de_Suzie



Series: All That Jazz [8]
Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: 1930's AU, Blow Jobs, Chanteuse, Compromising Sexual Escapades, Cunnilingus, Humor, Mobster AU, Nightclub AU, Oral Sex, Romance, Smut, Smutty Fun, butterfly bog, mob boss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 08:40:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5199410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selkie_de_Suzie/pseuds/Selkie_de_Suzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marianne has no sense of shame, and Bog is torn between begging for mercy or begging for more. Never mind that the Mob Boss is a firm believer in revenge…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1: Blow Your Mind

**Part 1: Blow Your Mind**

 

There were times when Bog was able to rightfully scorn other Mob Bosses for being so  _distractible_ , grimly satisfied that  _he_  was able to keep his mind on whatever job was at hand, his head focused solely on business, proud that work placed before pleasure for him. 

This was not one of those times.

Marianne’s moan has high and hazy with desire as her head lolled back against his chest, her rump bumping deliciously against his crotch in a slow, teasing grind. Although such writhing might not have been to tease at all, wedged as she was between him and his desk –

Bog rocked back as he clutched at her hip almost punishingly, his mouth still busy with the silky smooth line of her throat and the task of decorating that pale column with as many love bites as possible. He gripped her even tighter as his tongue laved over her pulse, causing her to gasp. The ragged sound soon melted away into a whimper as he slid a hand down the front of her dress, rough knuckles catching at the silk. Long, wickedly strong fingers began to caress and knead one velvety soft breast none-too-gently, already familiar with this decadent territory.

Marianne cried out, her head thrown back and her spine curving at his touch, the line of her neck so elegant and taut and arched, inviting his gaze down to a place of delicious shadows and softness. Marianne was sometimes self-conscious about her figure - her petite breasts lacking the voluptuousness of the current feminine ideal - but it was difficult for Bog to imagine anything more  _perfect_  than those slender curves, that soft skin and surprising strength – 

One slender hand desperately grappled at his own hip, inelegant in her passion as she clutched him even closer, and this time the grinding was  _absolutely_ deliberate, the minx.  _“Ohhhh, B-Bog –“_

Bog growled against her, nudging his nose further into her hair to breathe her in, her musky floral perfume even more potent with how hot to the touch she was getting. Some strands of her silky locks clung to her brow and the nape of her neck, her skin damp and glowing gold in the dim light of his office,  _so fucking mouth-watering, he wanted to taste every bit of her, all his all his all his -_

He could take her like this, bend her over the desk as easy as anything. The thought burned through him in a hot wave of temptation - it wasn’t like they hadn’t gone at it on his desk before, and fucking hell,  _that_  had been  ** _fun_**. But another desire was stronger.  _Wanna see her, wanna see what he did to her –_

He flipped her around, Marianne letting out a mewl of disappointment that became a purr of pleasure as he leaned over her, covering her small frame with his larger one, let her take his weight as he pressed her down against the desk. Amber eyes, hazy with rapture, briefly closed as the evidence of his desire rocked against her, hard and hot and insistent. They fluttered open to fix him with a wicked gaze, and her voice, though still breathless, was now coy.  **“ _Bog –“_**

 _Goddammit,_  the sound of her alone was gonna finish him off. He smothered her mouth with his to prevent that – she was gonna get hers first, he made it a point of pride to witness her rapture before taking his –

Their kiss was frankly filthy, open mouthed and deep and messy, and Bog was once again torn between bone-deep pleasure and honest shock that a girl like her was so eager to damn her virtue with a grim old bastard like him. 

This rich girl with her blue blood and sharp tongue and fiery temper, her honey eyes and rose-petal skin and wine-stained lips and those endless legs that wrapped around him, so eager and needy –

His beautiful, dangerous Tough Girl –

His fingers scrabbled at her dress, rucking up her skirt to get to her sweet heat, while Marianne tore at his clothes in return, her breath coming in sharp little pants as her hands fumbled at buttons, tugged at his tie. One particularly desperate gesture had her jolting against him, and Bog groaned, his voice thick.  _“Dia, Marianne…”_

She gave a laugh at that, thready with desire – making him fall into his old tongue never failed to give her a kick.

He pulled her close, wanting to catch any laugh that spilled from her lips with his.  _“A chrostag…”_ he murmured hotly against her mouth before biting at her lip. Marianne moaned in throaty encouragement as he tugged her into a kiss, and he once again felt arousal burn through him viciously, his groin twist with heat. Sweet Jesus, he wanted to  _drown_  in her –

He ran a hand up her thigh and smirked hungrily against her mouth. Such a wish might not be that impossible, given how gorgeously  _eager_ she was, sweet and musky and moist –

He kissed up her throat before Marianne tugged at him impatiently, having finished wrangling with his tie. He came back to her, their lips brushing, breath mixing –

The office door opened and one Theodore “Thang” Hanglowitz bounded in. “Boss! News from the Border shacks, Stuff said I should let you know -!”

Thang paused on his way through the door, his eyes squinting in confusion behind his big glasses. “Are you alright, Boss?”

Bog glared at him from where he sat behind his desk, the blue of his eyes burning. _“Just fine, Thang…”_ he said in a quiet, slow snarl.

Of  _course_ they would be interrupted. And of  _course_ it would be by fucking  _Thang_ …

There was a harsh little tug on a trouser leg, and Bog repressed a wince as he darted a look underneath the desk.

Marianne’s teeth were bared in a snarl as she looked up at him from the little alcove, amber eyes glowing bright with the promise of hell to pay. Bog was immediately and intensely thankful that he had the desk specially made for his long legs, at least she had plenty of room…

Still, he grimaced in apology, his hands making a helpless gesture that only she could see. It’s not like he had  _wanted_  to trap her there, but what with Thang barging in like that and the need to keep their trysts a secret –

At that thought, Bog snapped his head back up to Thang, who was still looking at him with pure confusion. “Are ye familiar with th’ concept o’ knockin’, Thang?”

Thang even more befuddled at such a question. “Uh, yes sir?”

“Then somethin’ must be wrong with yer hands, aye?” Bog said pleasantly, the blue of his eyes getting increasingly more venomous.

Thang looked surprised. “No sir, they’re fine –“

 _“Then learn ta bludy knock with ‘em,”_  Bog snarled.  _“Before Ah cut them from yer wrists.”_

There was a sharp swat against one of his knees, and Bog bit back an oath before glancing back under the table.

Marianne glared up at him, her scowl protective.  _“Don’t be a bully,”_  she mouthed.

Bog sputtered incredulously, torn between defending himself and the need to keep her hidden. He was trying to make sure they wouldn’t be bloody interrupted again-!

Thang, meanwhile, had shrunk back apologetically. “Yes sir. But, Stuff insisted that I give you the message, she said it couldn’t wait –“

Bog waved an impatient hand. “I’m listening.”

Thang brightened and reached into his trouser pocket. His smile immediately fell. “Oh, I dropped it. I’ve been writing them down so not to forget anything and keep them nice and clear like you wanted me to –

 _“Ah’m waiting,”_  Bog snarled, his already thin patience growing all the more tenuous. Jesus, never mind that Thang would be so oblivious as to think that writing down sensitive information would be a  _good_ idea. He felt another punishing pinch from Marianne at his tone, and grit his teeth. Fine time for her to be protective towards his subordinates, she wasn’t the one who was still in a right state –

“I’ll have to say it from memory now,” Thang said mournfully. “Let’s see…it was…it was something about a bone.”

 _“What?”_  Bog said, confused and already exasperated. A small chuckle floated up from under the desk, and Bog drew his chair closer to it, hoping the drag of it would mask the sound. He glared down at Marianne, waving a hand at her as subtly as he could.  _Keep it down._

Marianne shot him a dark look as Thang nodded and scratched at his neck, furrowing his brow in concentration. “I think so…or maybe it was a  _stone?_ Carew was the one making the report to Stuff, she always says his accent makes him hard to understand –“

“Just give the damn message, Thang,” Bog growled, scrubbing a hand over his face in frustration as he gave a slow, shuddery growl of an exhale. The sooner Thang left, the better. And what with how he could louse up messages, God knew how long it would take –

It was at that moment that Bog felt a far softer touch at his knee.

Marianne leaned her cheek against it, her eyes hooded and contemplative as she looked up at him from her little alcove. Thang was still waffling his way through his message, his concentration blinding him, and Bog felt it was safe to risk stroking a hand over the soft wave of her locks, slightly mussed from their earlier indiscretions. Bog had a momentary moment of thankfulness that he had only lost his tie, and then gave her another apologetic grimace.  _I’m sorry, Tough Girl._

But Marianne didn’t appear to be in such a furious state now. In fact…

She blinked, and then the slowest of smirks curled across those crimson lips. Her eyes looked up at him, and the smoky edge of her makeup and the shadows of the desk made them  _glow_  against the darkness, an undeniably wicked gleam to the hazel depths.

Bog furrowed his brow at her, utterly confused.  _What was she -?_

“ – But now that I think about it, I suppose  _loan_  would make more sense here than either  _bone_  or  _stone_.” Thang nodded cheerfully. “Oh, that clears up some things! I think I can remember the rest!”

Bog looked up, giving an impatient sigh. “Then bloody get on with -“

Hands suddenly began to stroke up and down his thighs, soft, teasing lines of sensation.

Bog’s voice stuttered to a stop _. Oh God._   

Thang looked at him inquiringly. “Sir?”

“C-continue,” Bog said, his breath a bit short. He looked down at Marianne as she edged closer to him, her eyes watching the path of her fingers and a thoughtful purse to her lips.

 _“What are ye doin'?!”_  he hissed, trying to move his lips as little as possible, his eyes wide and incredulous.

Marianne merely smirked up at him, her face beautifully smug, and Bog felt a intense thrill of dread go through him. Hellfire, it was one thing to admire her dangerousness, it was another thing entirely to be at her mercy –

“ – So Stuff said that she could send the shipments over with them. But then Carew said something about a – a shark? I  _think_ it was a shark, but that doesn’t make any –“

Marianne’s hands were getting harder, her caresses more forceful, and Bog was beginning to get rather lightheaded under her touch.  _God_ , but she knew how to use her fingers –

Though why she had decided to do so now –

“ – So maybe they saw the alligator and thought it was a shark?” Thang shrugged. “I’m not sure, but anyway, they saw it amongst the shipment and went after it –“

It was at this precise moment that there was the sudden, warm weight of a palm pressed right against his –

Bog jumped in his seat, his eyes huge. “ _Bloody buggering –!“_

He banged a knee on the side of the desk and inhaled in a sharp hiss, the throbbing pain of it a sharp contrast to  _another_  type of throbbing, and Bog shot a look of pure panic at the wicked thing beneath his desk.

Marianne merely smiled up at him sweetly as she scooted back to him, then briskly resumed stroking her hand at his crotch, caressing and kneading the hardening outline of his length as thoroughly as she knew how, and  _damn_ him, he had shown her  _just_ what he liked –

Bog slapped his hands down on the desk, trembling. Sweet Jesus, he was getting hard as a fucking  _rock_ under her touch,  _what the bloody hell was she playing at -?!_

Thang looked at him, truly concerned. “Boss? Is everything alright?”

 _“I’m –“_  Bog drew in another shaky breath,  _“I’m fi –“_

Marianne leaned across his lap and gave a slow, tender nuzzle to the bulge she was coaxing to such wretchedly glorious sensitivity, hot breath skating over it as she kissed along his thigh, the heat of her burning through the cloth.

 _“FINE.”_  Bog clenched a fierce fist in front of his mouth, and grit his teeth, his next words a hiss.  _“I’m fiiiiinnnnneee…._ ”

Marianne knelt back on her heels, her eyes burning up at Bog as he fought to catch his breath. Thang cocked his head, looking befuddled but still thankfully unaware. “Should I continue, sir?”

Bog desperately tried to stop his chest from heaving as he chanced a look down at Marianne. Would she stop, would she have mercy -?

There was a tender glint to her eyes as she looked up at him, and she draped her arms over his lap in a soft hug. Even though his cock still positively ached, Bog felt an enormous wave of relief wash over him.  _Thank God._  She had had her fun, and he was safe.

He nodded softly, his eyes on her and his voice just a shade ragged as he spoke to Thang. “Continue.”

Marianne’s soft expression immediately split into an utterly wicked smile, and her hands flew to the zip of his pants.

Bog tried not to let out a yelp, and he frantically tried to swat her hands away as discreetly as he could. Damn him,  _damn him,_  he should have known -!

Thang once again lost himself to his rambling message, and for once Bog burned with gratitude at his lackey’s sheer incompetence.

Gratitude…and something else.

Marianne was still busy with his trousers, unzipping the fly as softly as she could, and Bog bit down on a moan when she snaked a hand in to caress him through his boxers, her touch deft and so damn  _sweet_. God in heaven, her fingers could work  _magic,_ dark and wicked and stealing every bit of strength from him, making him positively  _melt_ under her ministrations –

Bog’s head lolled back, his breath getting hard and deep –

But then Marianne was pulling him free of his trousers, palms soft and warm as they worked at his rigid length, fingers dragging deep into every searing, sensitive inch of skin –

Bog’s back bowed and he bit down on a fist, his teeth sinking into his knuckles.  ** _“A thighearna -! ”_**

“I know!” Thang nodded wisely. “I told Stuff it wasn’t possible that Brutus could have eaten the  _whole_  thing, but then we had to take him to the hospital –“

Bog’s head snapped back, his breath heaving out of him in messy pants, and he grit his teeth over the swell of moans and curses and pleas clawing up his throat.

She should stop –

He didn’t  _want_  her to –

But she  _should_  –

But it was  _pure bloody heaven_  –

Bog looked down at Marianne, sweat gathering on his brow, his hands clutching at the arms of his chair, his breathing labored. Blue eyes sought hazel, their hue hazed with desire and desperation and Bog was lost,  _so damn lost_. If he could speak freely he wouldn’t have the breath to, and even then he wasn’t sure if he would beg for mercy or release –

Marianne flicked her eyes up at him, and her rosy lips were damp, her tongue tracing them as her hands continued their sinfully amazing work. Her gaze was golden, wanton and wild, and she had never looked so damn  _powerful_ , so bloody  _beautiful_ , so utterly  _wicked._   

Bog reached a hand to her, his fingers shaking, and she kissed them readily, her tongue flicking over them. Bog let out a huff of laughter, small enough for their ears alone. So damn dangerous, and yet so tender, happy to risk  _everything_  on him, of all people –

_God damn me -_

Marianne darted another glance up at him, and for a brief moment her eyes had an uncertain gleam to them. But something in his face made a look of dangerous resolve cross hers, and suddenly she was parting his legs to wriggle in between them, getting as close to him as possible.

Bog squinted at her, confused.  _What was she -?_

And then her mouth was on him, her tongue dragging up his cock in a long, slow, leisurely lick. 

Bog’s eyes crossed before he closed them, throwing his head back with a noise like a smothered sob.  _FUCKING **HELL**._

 _Oh damn her, God damn **her**. _ Damn her and damn the soft, silken heat of her mouth and damn the rough, wet velvet drag of her tongue and damn the hot, moist breath that blew coolness over its path -

Damn her fingers, damn her lips, damn her touch and heat and taste, damn her willingness to give _him_  such sweet heaven -

Marianne gave another pass of her tongue, flicking and laving the underside of his head. There was another sinful look up at him, and then suddenly she took him in her mouth, her hands fisting along his length as she began to suck on him, the wet heat of her surrounding him entirely.  

Bog slammed a fist on the table, making Thang jump.  ** _“FOR FUCK’S SAKE.”_**

Thang immediately nodded, his eyes wide. “I told Stuff that you would be angry, sir!”

Bog tried to reply, but his tongue had decided to stop working as his hips desperately rocked up, each drive and draw of her mouth pulling him on, her hands holding him to the chair like vises as his traitorous body jerked, making his chair rock.  _“Nnnnghhh…”_   

“Don’t worry, though, I think the runners will back us despite the loss –“

Bog’s nails raked across the desk, chipping the dark finish. So this was how he would die – not a hit, not a shootout, but in his office, listening to Thang ramble on while Marianne sucked him off.

Bog eyes rolled up in his skull as Marianne gave a particularly delicious caress of her tongue, and his head sank to his chest in a helpless groan.  _There are far worse ways to go._

_God, where the **hell** did a rich girl hear about such an act –?_

Bog felt the pressure build, his pleasure crest, and he quickly grit his teeth against any betraying noises. He snaked a hand down to clutch at Marianne’s head, his fingers twining through her locks, and she increased the speed of her ministrations, her hunger as urgent as his own, moaning around her mouthful. Bog’s heart stuttered at the sight of her, the sound of her, the feel of her as she lavished him with such exquisite attention.  _Bloody fucking **hell** , Tough Girl_ -  

The sweet pull of her mouth increased, and Bog felt any scant restraint he had slip away, a snarl of pleasure escaping from him. “ _GOD YES_.”

Thang immediately stopped in his explanation and brightened. “Yes? I should tell Stuff she can handle that?”

_“ARRGGGH –“_

“…Was that a yes, Boss?”

**_“GET OUT!”_ **

Thang immediately ran for the door, years of experience with his Boss’s moods trumping any further well-intentioned curiosity, and just then Bog’s voice promised far more than hell to pay if he didn’t obey.

 _“An’ close th’ bludy dooooorrrrrrrr – GOD.”_   Bog’s back arched so hard he nearly fell off the chair. “ _Marrriaaaa-AAAAH_  –“

He threw his head back and swore, misery and ecstasy and thankfulness boiling hot under his skin. Thank God he could react properly now, no one else here to witness such a loss of control, an abandon only  _she_  could coax from him –

_He was so close, he was so damn close –_

_“Marianne,”_  he choked out, his warning ragged and desperate.  _“Ah’m – Ah cannae – ye need ta –“_

Marianne moaned low in her throat, the thrum of it sliding over his cock, and he thrashed in his chair as she took him the deepest she had yet, her cheeks hallowing, her eyes fluttering closed like she was goddamned  _savoring_  him –

He bucked under her, only just barely catching his roar behind his teeth. Thang was still nearby, there was still a chance of discovery,  _right here, right under everyone’s noses, she was so willing to risk everything to be with him, she wanted **him**  –_

And with that single burning thought, the last bit of fire was ignited and his release blazed through him in a crashing wave of molten ecstasy. This time Bog  _did_  roar, throwing his head back as he came, shuddering and deep and hard, Marianne taking him to down to every last drop.

Utterly annihilated by his pleasure, Bog crumpled across the chair, shaking in the wake of it all, his long limbs sprawling and trembling…

_He couldn’t bloody believe it, believe **her** …_

Marianne climbed out from beneath the desk, daintily wiping her mouth with the back of her hand while the other one smoothed the creamy silk of her dress. “Well,  _that_  was an adventure…”

He should curse her out, scold her for taking such a risk, making him lose his control like that. Instead, he could only look at her dazedly, awed adoration in his eyes.  _“Bràmair…”_

She smiled at him, and through his observational skills were still muzzy with bliss, he saw that her lipstick was quite gone, the crimson stain smudged near out of existence. He had laughed earlier, teased her over her insistence at wearing her usual dark makeup with such a light gown,  _“Like some femme fatale playing at innocent –“_

Bog’s head sank down once more as he groaned, his throat raw and sweat cooling on his brow.  _God,_  she was the furthest thing from innocent.

He looked at her and frowned as he saw her fingers stray once more to her mouth. “Ye…ye dinnae  _have_  ta –“ he flushed, flustered to say such a thing despite all that had taken place between them.

“A lady doesn’t spit,” Marianne retorted primly, even as her eyes smoldered at him, the amber of them clear and the gleam in them the same as when she had looked up at him, her lips around his –

“Besides, I can always get a drink,” Marianne continued on airily, crossing to where he kept his scotch. “You want one? I’m having one.”

Bog groaned again and cradled his head in his hands, long fingers combing through damp locks messily.  _“Ye mad wench.”_

 _“Rude,”_  Marianne admonished, clinking some ice cubes into her glass and pouring out a small tumbler of the precious spirits. “If you’re gonna scold me, as least stick to doing it like you did earlier. I like that.”

Bog groaned for the third time, and Marianne grinned as she made her way back to him, perching herself on his desk and folding her legs, still holding her drink. “I’ve been studying up on my Gaelic, you know. Thought it would be appreciated. Finally figured out what some of your nicknames for me mean.”

Bog looked up at that, surprised confusion momentarily bringing him out of the pleasurable catatonia he was slipping into.  _She had…?_

Her eyes were sly. “ _Pearraid…mouthy girl.”_ She smiled at him, slow and wicked and knowing, and she had never looked so beautifully  _evil_.  _“_ I would say  _that’s_ rather applicable now, hmmm?”

Bog groaned for the fourth time, deep and helpless, covering his face with his hands.  _“Ah hate ye.”_

Marianne laughed, long and joyful and uninhibited, throwing back her head. “You really,  _really_ don’t,” she assured him cheerfully, then gave his brow a chaste kiss, and Bog groaned once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Scottish-Gaelic for ya, kids!
> 
> Dia - "God"  
> A chrostag - "You naughty girl"  
> A thighearna - "Good Lord"  
> Bràmair - "Sweetheart"


	2. Part 2: Hold The Phone

**Part 2: Hold The Phone  **

 

Goodness, but it still could be odd seeing Bog in her flat. 

Which wasn’t to say that such a sight was any kind of unwelcome. What with their need to keep their trysts secret, they couldn’t keep their meetings at just The Dark Forest – someone was bound to notice, sooner or later. That close shave with Thang last week had merely proved it.  

So while Bog’s room above the club still continued to see plenty of action, there were now motels, little hole-in-the-wall hideaways, as well as the odd fling in his car, the windows fogging as limbs twisted and twined, their passion undimmed if a touch cramped.

Marianne had yet to see the place that Bog kept, but that didn’t truly bother her. It wasn’t like he was hiding anything from her – everyone knew that The Dark Forest was his  _real_  home. The notoriously private gangster had shown her countless vulnerabilities, honored her with endless trust, and Marianne never would have dreamed of demanding more.

Even with that in mind, Marianne could hardly believe her daring when she had whispered that first invitation to come up to her place, the words brushing against his mouth as they had lingered on her stoop all those nights ago. The shock in his eyes had been echoed in her, her heartbeat dizzying her with how it thrummed…

It was funny…being stripped to her stockings by him was less nerve-wracking than having him witness what her home was like…

Yet any remaining surreality faded away as soon as they fell into their usual habits – discussing club business, bickering over music (he preferred Sinatra, she adored Billie Holiday), further instruction from him on how to handle herself in a fight should the need ever arise. There had even been an attempt on her part to cook for him before he had thankfully taken over, teaching her some old Scottish recipes.  _Roland would have never been caught dead in a kitchen_ \-  

It was warm, cozy,  _homey,_  and God help her, Marianne wanted such moments to never end…

Of course…there were other ways in which to occupy themselves.

Marianne’s moan was almost giggly as his fingers skirted up her thigh, getting tangled in the rustling layers of her skirt. Bog caught the last bit of it with his hungry mouth, angling it under hers so that he could taste her more thoroughly, his want for her seemingly ravenous. Marianne tried not to let any more laughter escape from her, but  _God_ , who would have honestly thought that a blue blood rich girl and an infamously grim Mob Boss could indulge in some necking that would put any randy youth to shame?

With that thought spurring her on, Marianne wriggled even closer, not a single scant inch between their bodies as she straddled him against her couch cushions, once again thankful that the dress she wore possessed a skirt that allowed such a daringly liberal position.  _So much **easier**  to pin him -_  

Bog gave a heavy groan at such slow, purposeful grinding, and he leaned his face into her neck, teeth and tongue marking her as he trailed sucking kisses along the line of it, growling low and heated. His rumble of passion was abruptly cut off by a deep inhale of pleasure as Marianne slid a hand down whatever meager space remained between them, her fingers snaking over his vest clad torso till they reached a certain destination, one that sent a thrill of wicked delight sparking through her fingertips.

“Ah thought ye dinnae do  _repeat performances_ , Tough Girl,” Bog managed to get out, his voice impossibly thick, his breath already rushing from him as she let her fingers toy at his belt buckle.

Marianne laughed, just as breathless as he was, hot with delight and anticipation. “For private audiences, I do,” she murmured, carding her fingers through his hair, making him moan and tip his head back, his eyes sinking closed. She smiled and nuzzled at his nose, her lips brushing against his as she continued. “Especially if they’re tall, dark, and  _mine.”_

Bog flushed at that, like he always did whenever she complimented him, declared herself to him so  _freely_. Marianne continued on, her coy tone at odds with how deeply her eyes burned, the amber of them smoldering with fierce intent. “Besides, nothing is gonna interrupt us.” Her sultry smolder broke as she gave an impish grin. “No  _Thang,_ either.”  

Bog’s groan was equal parts disgust at her wonderful wit and desire as she loosened his tie to kiss up his neck properly. “Like tha’ bludy stopped ye last time –“

“And nothing’s gonna stop me now,” Marianne grinned, dangerous in her sincerity as she yanked him back to her. Bog acquiesced with a hungry moan, and once again Marianne felt that wonderful, intoxicating thrill of disbelief that he allowed her to manhandle him so –

_\- trusted her so, wanted her so, oh dear God how she loved him and **nothing**  was gonna stop her from showing him how much she did,  **nothing**  –_

The phone rang, bright and cheerful and shattering the heated moment as surely as a bullet through glass.

This time their groans were simultaneous and most definitely  _not_  from passion, Marianne slumping against Bog dejectedly. “Nothing except the phone,” she said dourly, then swung her leg off of him with a gusty sigh of reluctance. She stood and smoothed her hands down the violet taffeta of her skirt, now mightily rumpled. Damn her insistence at being a modern, independent girl. “Duty calls.”

Bog raised a heavy brow at her as she crossed to the still ringing contraption. “Can’t you just leave it -?”

“Dad and Dawn know that I have nothing going on tonight, it would look suspicious if I didn’t answer,” Marianne explained ruefully. “If it’s anyone else, I’ll hang up.” She was sure it was one of them; only Dad and Dawn had permission to call so late. Although knowing Dad and his misguided good intentions…“But if it’s Roland, I’m gonna have you fire your gun by the receiver.”

Bog gave a malicious chuckle at that, and Marianne grin was equally devilish as she picked up the phone from its cradle, bringing it to her mouth. “Hello?”

_“Marianne!_  I’m  _so_ glad you’re up, I have to tell you the  _most_ amazing news!

Marianne groaned good-naturedly as Bog got up as well and went to pour himself a drink.  _Dawn, and in all her glory._  “And the most amazing news couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

Dawn gave a thoroughly unladylike snort. “Oh, like you don’t keep late hours anyway. I swear, Marianne, you’ve become a proper owl lately. Just what  _are_ you doing with your nights? I know it’s not to attend soirées, at least not ones I go to – “

_That’s for sure._  Marianne rolled her eyes and tried to focus – it wouldn’t do to have Dawn become too curious about the life her older sister led. Especially not when she was still at home and their father was still nervous about having his eldest so far from the proverbial nest. “I’m just…living my own life now, Dawn. Taking care of myself, making my own money – “

It wasn’t a lie, she  _was_  still earning every red cent of her paycheck, she refused to be any man’s kept woman and Bog knew that -

She felt him come up behind her, his hands tracing over the curve where her waist met her hip, and she tried to wriggle away, not to be distracted by those absolutely  _sinful_  hands with all their utterly  _decadent_  tricks –

Bog leaned his head down to the crook of her neck, nuzzling her there before nodding to the phone questioningly.

Marianne cupped a hand over the phone. “My sister,” she whispered. “So don’t get handsy, alright?”

Bog’s only reply was to lift his hands up, the innocence of the gesture utterly nullified by the smirk he was sporting.

She gave him a soft look of warning and turned back, twirling the phone’s cord between her fingers idly. “Besides, I’m just too old for the parties you go to –“

She jolted back and winced as Dawn gave a small shriek. “OH MY STARS! I nearly forgot, that’s why I called you! You know about the Spring Ball, right?”

Marianne snorted. “That dance Dad always holds for all the fat cats and spoiled blue bloods? How could I not?”

She couldn’t help the edge of bitterness in her voice - she had met Roland at one of the Spring Balls, and look how  _that_  had turned out - 

Dawn gave a  _click_ of her tongue. “It’s a  _charity_  ball, Marianne! There’s no need to be such a sourpuss. And they’re  _not_  fat cats, they’re the cream of high society!”

“Same thing,” Marianne replied dryly, and then bit down on an exclamation of surprise as a pair of long fingers curled at her waist, another stroking down the curve of her spine. She squirmed in Bog’s grip, but he clung like a nettle and buried his face in her hair, and she couldn’t help but smile as he inhaled deeply, letting out a low hum of contentment.  _To think this man has a criminal empire at his beck and call._ “What about it, Dawn?”

“Daddy decided that I could finally be announced with this one!” Marianne could tell from her sister’s voice alone that Dawn was positively quaking with excitement.  _“I’m finally going to be a debutante!”_

“Really?” Marianne replied, intrigued despite herself. Their father had always been reluctant to let his little girl take that final step into high society. Considering how Marianne’s interactions with the social elite had turned out, Marianne couldn’t exactly blame him. “I thought for sure he was going to wait until you were eighteen to -”

At this moment, Bog decided to give her ear a nibble, making Marianne nearly yelp. She swatted a hand at him, which he merely grabbed and brought to his lips. Marianne bit hers as he began to press soft kisses on her palm, trailing them across her knuckles and giving a gentle bite at her wrist, his stubble catching at her skin, his lips rough and yet so  _soft_ , so  _warm_ …

A traitorous flush of pleasure spread over her, and Marianne fought to concentrate on what Dawn was saying. “ – and he said he  _would_  have done it when I was sixteen, like you did, since it was only fair! But then…well, what with you and Roland…”

A prickle of guilt spread along Marianne’s neck, her pleasure dimming a bit. She had never  _wanted_  to cause any trouble for Dawn. But her decision to abruptly end her engagement to one of the most bright and shining members of high society had sent waves of shock through their ranks.

The fact that it had been on the day of the wedding had given endless amounts of fodder for gossips as well, and no one was shy in letting her know they considered her a fool to give up Roland Greensin, such a handsome, dashing, charming, ambitious,  _lying,_   _cheating, chattering, pig-headed, son of a_  -

A familiar swell of fury curled up in Marianne’s breast, and she gave a growl of anger –

\- which abruptly broke into a gasp as Bog trailed kisses up her arm, nipping and sucking his way towards her collarbone. Any simmers of rage melted into a far lovelier type of heat, and Marianne’s knees went weak as the rough velvet of his tongue stroked the fine line of it in a hot path, setting her nerves ablaze, making her eyes flutter closed,  _oh please, oh yes, yes yes y_  –

“Marianne?”

Marianne jolted out of her pleasurable daze and swatted at Bog once more, dark eyes wide with panic and recrimination. He easily dodged her blows, a small smirk on his sharp face, and Marianne scowled at him, certain she would have landed a hit if he hadn’t distracted her so  _thoroughly_  –

“Hello? Marianne, are you there?”

Marianne firmly turned her back on Bog, focusing upon the conversation once more. “Sorry, Dawn, got distracted. And…um, sorry for…for making you wait for your debut –“

Dawn gave a laugh. “Oh, Marianne, don’t worry about it! I just can’t believe that it’s  _finally_  happening!  _My first real dance!_  So many  _boys_ are going to be there –!“

Marianne rolled her eyes, about to make a comment about how Dawn had been to plenty of other dances and had met plenty of other boys before now –

But then arms were snaking around her, long and hard with wiry muscle, holding her tight –

Her eyes widened as Bog nuzzled at the nape of her neck, then her throat, before kissing along the line of her jaw, his breath heated and his stubble rasping over her skin. He reached her ear and Marianne gave a tiny, helpless moan, certain he was going to exploit such a weak spot. 

She was quickly proven correct when she felt his tongue curl along it, and her knees actually bent at that, her breath rushing from her in a great gasp. Dammit, he  _knew_  how she reacted to such caresses,  _knew_  how they made her melt so entirely,  _why_  was he doing this to her,  _why_  here,  _why_  now, and dear God in heaven,  _why was she hoping he would never, ever stop -?_

Bog snagged her earlobe with a soft, throaty growl, almost purring as those teeth of his dragged over the tender flesh -

Marianne, unprepared, let out a cry.  _“Oh -!”_

“Marianne, are you all right-?”

“I’m – I’m f-fine, I just,  _um_ , I just - stubbed my toe - ” Marianne squirmed desperately to free herself from Bog’s embrace, even as her body called for him, for more of such gorgeously sinful attention -  

And thank God, he stepped back, his chest rising and falling in a soft pant, his face intense and his eyes burning so  _blue_  with want as he watched her, his low brows shadowing them.

Marianne couldn’t stop herself from drowning in them just a bit, but valiantly tried to continue talking to Dawn, her own breath shaky. “I – I’m  _so_ sorry, Dawn, I just wasn’t looking and – you know how clumsy I get – w-what was it that you were saying -?”  

“That’s what you get for wearing those heels of yours,” Dawn replied, but such criticism was half-hearted what with her love of fashion. “And I wanted you to help me plan everything for the event! Fashion, flowers, food, music,  _everything!_  I know  _exactly_ what I want to do for my dress – I know it’s traditional to be presented in white, but what if it was a really, really,  _really_ pale shade of blue? It would set off my eyes  _so_ well–“

Marianne tried to listen, truly she did, but then Bog was stepping back to her, one hand catching at her waist as his head bent to her chest and  _oh dear Lord–_

Her mouth parted in a silent moan as he – no,  _kissing_  wasn’t the appropriate term at allfor what his mouth and teeth and tongue were doing to her. He was  _feasting_  on her, open-mouthed and unabashed, each hot drag of his tongue and scrape of his teeth sending shivery spirals of pleasure under her skin, through her blood -  

His hands –  _dangerous hands, wicked hands, hands that knew what she liked too damn well_  - stroked and kneaded and caressed her breasts through her dress, sending Marianne into an oblivion of bliss, her head lolling back. When his fingers plucked at her nipples, peaking even through the fabric, Marianne arched helplessly, a quivering bolt of white-hot  _perfection_  lancing through her whole body -   

But then Bog was moving,  _kneeling_  -

“Sunny can help with those decorations, of course!” Dawn said blithely as Marianne squinted at him, torn between confusion and want –  _why_ was he on his knees before her, like some sinner in supplication -?

Bog looked up at her from where he knelt on her hardwood floor, his blue eyes burning beneath those heavy brows, breathing a bit heavily as he took in her befuddled eyes, her pink cheeks, the slight heave of her breasts -

Then a slow and steady smirk curled across his lips until he seemed positively  _predatory,_ looking up at her so  _hungrily_  -

Marianne immediately felt an intense thrill of  _something_ , and God help her, she didn’t know if it was delight or dread. All she knew was that if this man in front of her was indeed a sinner, he was most assuredly  _not_  a repentant one.

The thought had barely crossed her mind when Bog stroked his hands up her legs, over the tops of her stockings, his fingers teasing at her garters until they strayed over to –

Marianne’s gasp was torn from her, ragged and shocked as Bog’s fingers stroked over her core before unhooking her garter belt from her stockings. She only just barely registered Dawn’s voice. “Marianne, did you hear me?”

_“Mmm-hmmm…”_  Marianne replied faintly, trembling as Bog proceeded to pull her panty briefs away, sliding them down her legs, all the while not breaking eye contact with her. For one wild moment of panic, Marianne was tempted to grab them back, pull them up,  _what was he **doing** , was he completely insane -?!_

_“_ Are you sure? You seem sort of distracted. Or are you taking notes on what we’ll need -?”

“M’fine…” Marianne breathed faintly, her heartbeat thudding in her ears even as she let him slip the garment over her feet, one of her heels catching on it for brief moment. “Y-yes, I…got everything here…”

She  _should_  stop him, stop whatever madness he had planned, even if her core was positively _throbbing_  with heat and want -

But then Bog was hiking up her skirts, the fabric rustling as it bunched around her waist, and she was  _completely_  exposed, his hungry eyes finally breaking away from her wide-eyed gaze to take in the sight - 

_Oh **God.**_

Still clutching the phone with white knuckles, Marianne found herself caught in a wild paroxysm of conflicting emotions, fear and confusion and shock crashing through her.  _What_  was he  _doing,_   _what_  was he playing at,  _Dawn was still there, still talking –!_

A swell of trepidation welled up inside of her, making her bit her lip. No one had  _ever_ seen her like this,  _no one_ , half dressed and exposed like the most shameless of hussies –

Even after all their love making, all their intimacy, to have him see her like  _this_ , looking at  _that_ –

Marianne twisted a bit, her skin prickling hot with nervous discomfort even as cool air caressed her thighs. Surely he would find itunappealing, distasteful -

But then Bog gave low groan deep in his throat, one of pure appreciation. The rough, warm weight of his palms spanned along the smooth stretch of her thighs, caressing skin and stockings alike. His eyes darted up to Marianne once more, and now the look in them was almost worshipful.

Marianne’s cheeks glowed all the more fiercely, but she couldn’t stop the smile that blossomed at the sight of such tender awe.  _God, how he looked at her…_

How could she have doubted him, he was –

Then the smirk was back, and before she even knew it, Bog began to kiss up her thigh, nipping and sucking his way along the smooth, curvy limb, his tongue laving along flesh bared just for him, teeth scraping skin in a soft bite -

Marianne collapsed against the wall, her whole being reeling.  _He was utterly **insane.**_

Dawn was still chattering away as Bog licked a hot line up to where she was positively  _dripping_  with molten need. Marianne’s breath heaved out of her in messy pants - it was a damn good thing he had gotten rid of her undergarments, they would have been positively  _soaked_  what with what his caresses were doing to her, she was so wet with want, dewy with desire, her little nub  _aching_ for relief –

Bog gave another throaty growl as he nuzzled at her damp little thatch of curls, breathing her. Marianne’s own breath caught in her throat from sheer shock. _He was –_

Bog moaned against her, and Marianne’s head swam even as her knees threatened to give out.  _Oh sweet God, what was he going to -?_

One large hand slipped to her front, stroking through her curls before parting the folds of sensitive, searing flesh to expose her swollen and aching clit.

Marianne’s chest heaved, her heart racing so hard it almost hurt.  _She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, how could she not be breathing when she was panting so-?_

She desperately tried to muffle herself with one hand while the other continued to clutch at the phone, her gaze darting from his hands to his eyes, his whole hungry face -

“ – I figure if we can talk to some bands now, we’ll have plenty of time to arrange things before the Ball –“

Bog looked up at her once more, taking in her flushed state, her fingers locked so desperately over her mouth, and his smile was soft and dangerous. His tongue licked over his lips, running over the jagged line of his teeth, and Marianne wasn’t able to stop her pathetic moan at the sight. 

“- I know it’s a lot to ask, but do you think you can handle the arrangements?”  

And then his mouth was on her, lips and teeth and tongue delving into her heat, feasting on her flesh, drinking in her desire –

Marianne’s eyes rolled back in her head, her fingers unable to capture her cry.  _“OH GOD YES!”_

There was a faintly bemused pause before Dawn gave a laugh. “Well,  _goodness_ , if you’re going to be so enthusiastic about it, then sure!”

Marianne’s head hit the wall, and she desperately tried not to let her rapid, ragged breathing turn into utterly wanton moans. Forcing her eyes open, she glared down at Bog.  _“I hate you,”_  she mouthed, even as her hips bucked at his touch, even as her leg hooked over his shoulder to desperately try to press him closer.

Bog’s retort was to merely cock a brow and smirk up at her, before he gave a long, dragging, achingly slow lick along her molten, soaking flesh.

Marianne’s head gave a hard  _thud_  as it sank back against the wall.  _Oh sweet and holy God –_

“Marianne? Marianne, are you alright?”  Dawn’s voice was beginning to get worried.

_“I’m –“_  Marianne’s voice was a gasp, barely able to get the word out. “ _I’m –“_

He nuzzled at her, his hands stroking up the back of her thighs before gripping her to him, cradling and possessive, and continued to work his tongue in deft, wholly intoxicating patterns against her, a curl here, a flick there -

“Dawn – I’m –  _unf_ – I’m s-so s-s-sorry, Dawn – I –  _mmph!_  – I swear I’m – “

Bog’s tongue laved hard over her clit before he sucked on it, slow and sweet and hungry.

_“I’M GOOD!”_  Marianne tried to lower her voice, tried to remain upright, tried so hard to salvage this conversation even as he was absolutely  _torturing_ her. “I’m good, Dawn, I’m –  _ssssooo g-gooood…”_  she moaned, dragging the fingers of her free hand through his hair and pulling him none-too-gently closer. Bog’s answering growl rolled through her, thrumming right against her sweet spot and  _oh holy god, oh holy fucking hell –_

Her next cry was as good as a sob, which she vainly tried to smother before sucking in a ragged breath to restore some of her coherency.  _“Please don’t stop,”_  she gasped into the phone, and then wildly and silently berated herself when she felt Bog grin against her. Oh God, that wretched, horrible, rotten  _bastard_ with his sinful fingers and his clever mouth and his delicious lips and that wicked,  _wicked_  tongue…!

Dawn gave a little hum of confusion. “Well, if you’re sure – I had some ideas for what we could serve for food. I want people to absolutely  _feast!”_

Marianne gave a slightly wild laugh, pleasure making it thready and high.  _“Feast!_  That’s –  _ahh_  - t-that’s a won-wonderful idea - ”

Oh yes it was,  _yes it was,_  he was feasting on  _her_ , devouring her to delight, consuming her to rapture and release,  _oh dear God, she was **so**  close –_

There were times that Marianne felt rather self-conscious about her lack of experience when compared to Bog’s more worldly ways – she knew he had been with other women, though not a great number – but now, as hot bliss rippled through her in shimmering waves of sensation, she felt only pure gratitude.  _Oh God, whoever taught him such an act, thank you thank you **thank you -!**_

Dawn was still talking, but Marianne gave up any pretense of listening or responding and surrendered herself to the sheer glorious depravity of the moment, her hips rocking desperately into his mouth, her leg clutching him closer, her fist gripping his hair as her mouth opened in a silent wail.  _Oh baby please, oh god oh god oh please please please yes yes YES YES YES OH GOD –_

Her heel was nearly falling off of her foot as her leg tightened around him, each lash of his tongue, each drag of his teeth, each lust thickened growl sending shudders through her. His fingers dragged across the smooth skin of her rump, and she knew there would be bruises, and the spike of pleasure at that thought had her arching up on her toes, trembling and taut, poised on the brink of something unknown, something absolutely  _gorgeous_ -

Liquid fire raged under her skin, ripples of golden, exquisite ecstasy spreading through her, growing stronger, crashing over her intoxicated senses, drowning her –

And all because of him, all because he loved her,  _every bit of her_ , licking and tasting and swallowing her like she was as sweet as honey, intoxicating as wine - 

_YES YES YES OH GOD OH GOD OH YES OH–_

_“Oh, B-Bog…”_  Marianne breathed shallowly, her skin damp, her eyes closed as she neared the threshold of rapture.

“…Bog? Wait…Marianne, is Mister King with you?”

At that precise moment, Bog let his thumb rub over her clit in a sinfully slow, hard circle.

Marianne’s release crashed over her in a glorious, burning wave, and the phone clattered out of her hand as she collapsed under the sheer force of her pleasure with a wail, her body bowing, practically folding in half, Bog the only thing stopping her from sinking to the floor in a boneless puddle of bliss.

He quickly caught her in his arms and hoisted her up easily, long legs striding to her couch. She was always forgetting just how damn  _strong_  he was –

He gently laid her down on her sofa, and Marianne clung to him with weak, trembling fingers. Her whole body was sapped of any strength, any kind of control - she was positively  _quaking_ , her limbs haphazard and languid as Bog pulled softly away, leaving her to recline in a sated sprawl. Her breath was still shaky, her heart still racing.  _Oh God, that was…_

After making sure she was comfortable on the cushions, Bog picked up the phone from the floor, dragging a forearm across his mouth before answering. “Evening, Miss Fairfield. Yes, it’s me, how are you? I’m fine, thank you very much for asking. Oh, yes, I just escorted your sister home. I felt it best, you know, given the terrible crimes in this city – certainly, of course I will.”

Bog leaned away from the phone, addressing Marianne over his shoulder, a smirk in his voice. “Miss Marianne, your charming sister wishes for me to inform you that I am a true gentleman.”

Marianne still couldn’t summon up that much strength, but she managed to throw a sofa pillow in his direction.

“She quite agrees. No no, no need to come check on her, she’s absolutely fine. Feeling a bit, ah,  _licked_  though.” Marianne shut her eyes at that and groaned. “No, of course. I will do so. Not at all, Miss Fairfield. Sorry,  _Dawn_. Good night to you too, dear.”

“Your sister truly is very sweet,” Bog said casually as he wandered over to where she reclined, tucking his hands into the pockets of his trousers. His vest was still buttoned, his tie only faintly rumpled - his slightly mussed hair was the only sign of their passion. Meanwhile, here she was, sprawled out on the sofa cushions, her skirt only just tugged down in order to keep her decent, and she was all… _messy_  down there, still in her stockings and garters and dress-

_Dear God, he had actually –_

God, she must look like an utter tramp, getting so wickedly and thoroughly pleasured whilst clothed like that. But maybe that was an old-fashioned idea; maybe this kind of lovemaking was new and daring and modern –

And Marianne  _was_  a modern girl.  

She still leveled a glare at him, trying very hard to summon up some crossness whilst still so deliciously sated, so gloriously muzzy with bliss. “I asked you not to get handsy, you louse.”

“Ah dinnae get handsy.” Bog’s grin was far too broad. “Ah got  _mouthy.”_

“ _You’re horrible_  –“

“Ye know, they say that revenge is a dish best served cold…” Bog drawled, coming closer, looking down at her with very satisfied eyes. “But I would say the hotter, the better. Payback has truly never tasted so good, love.”  

Marianne eyes widened as the meaning of his words sank in, and her mind flashed back to that little incident in his office –

_Oh, that utterly wicked bastard._

“You’re –“ Marianne valiantly tried again to summon up some strength, some fiery retort. “You are the most – you are so –“

“Mm-hmmm?” Bog smirked at her, raising his brows inquiringly as he settled down next to her.

_“Evil.”_  Marianne flopped back onto the sofa, her head still muzzy.  _“You’re so evil.”_

Bog’s chuckle was dark and rich and dangerously satisfied. “And don’t you ever forget it, Tough Girl.” He placed a chaste kiss on her head, and Marianne swatted at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you Bog was a firm believer in payback ;-)


End file.
